


Fever Dream

by cagestark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, zookeeper!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cagestark/pseuds/cagestark
Summary: To fill this prompt: Tony/ofc pretty please? Iron Man helps out after an animal breakout at the Bronx Zoo, and a young zookeeper there wants to thank him for his services?
Relationships: Tony Stark/Original Female Character(s), Tony Stark/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	Fever Dream

In her office is their first face to face meeting. 

(Sure, she’d been among the six other employees called in at three in the morning during the worst snow-storm New York City had seen in the last ten years. They’d all met trundled up in their coats and hats and scarves and boots outside the gates, shivering when Iron-Man—Iron-Man! she thought to herself, breathless—appeared like a star in the sky, landing in front of them in a flash of burning thrusters. 

But then, when they’d met, it had been face-to-faceplate, and everyone (herself included) had been far more concerned about Lyuba. 

“Cat’s out of the bag, huh?” the suit had said, voice more mechanical than human. “Or cage, should I say. That’s a hell of a malfunction in your security system.  _ Why  _ can’t you tranq her?” 

“She’s pregnant,” another employee said. “Twin, male cubs. There are more people in a single city block here than there are Siberian Tigers left in the entire world—we can’t risk causing her or the pregnancy any harm.” 

“And we can’t risk our funding by reporting this to any authority,” someone muttered under their breath.

“I don’t know if you’ve seen the news, but I usually wrangle humans. Bad guys, specifically. I don’t think I’m qualified to cat-sit.” 

He had been persuaded, though. They had huddled around each other watching on the surveillance cameras as he approached the tiger without fear, coaxing her back to the enclosure. They’d all let out cheers, breathless with relief. One after one, they had trickled out until only you remained in the office, watching over footage of Lyuba roaming the zoo. Then rewatching the footage of Iron-man shooing her along like a sheep-dog might his flock. 

When the knock comes, she calls out a distracted, Come in, without thinking about how any other employee wouldn’t have bothered knocking. When she looks up from the footage, Tony Stark is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. A masked madman might have shocked her less—though it certainly wouldn’t have made her so breathless. 

The closest she’s ever been to a celebrity is walking past Matt Damon once two Christmas Eves ago. This kind of close contact is far different. Tony Stark is far different. He looks at her with the most clever eyes she’s ever seen. She can’t help but feel like he sees through her, into her. When he smiles, her knees press together underneath the desk. He looks even more handsome in person than on television. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, not looking sorry in the slightest. “I left my suit at the curb and running. But I figured this would only take a minute.” 

“I—sorry?”

He points to the computer you’re sitting at. “Whatever malfunctioned in your security system and opened the tiger enclosure? I figured I could lend a little expertise. Save myself another midnight trip.” 

“Oh! Of course. Please—” 

Tony crosses the room with sure steps, and she scrambles up and aside to give him her seat. He brings with him the scent of expensive cologne, the kind with a name her lips are too clumsy to form. The smile he gives her is warm, lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Then he turns his eyes to the computer, fingers moving expertly across the keyboard. 

She can’t help but stand by him and watch while he works. 

“Thank you again for helping us with Lyuba,” she says. All the words come out in order—no small miracle with how nervous she is, with the way her hands are shaking. She clasps them together in her lap. “I spent the most time with the large cats. I was actually the first one that they called when she escaped. If anything had happened to her, it would have broken my heart.”

“Hey, what’s the use of a multi-million dollar, practically indestructible suit if I can’t use it to help round up wayward cats in my downtime? And you know, I think I see your problem here. Jesus, this program is outdated. I’m going to make a donation when the sun’s up. A big one. Splurge on something a little more twenty-first century. Off-topic question here—” she blinks when he turns to face her. God, his eyes are huge, dark as the whiskey she keeps in her freezer. “—what would you have done if I weren’t in Manhattan?” 

“Well,” she says. “I probably would have gone in after her. I don’t have a multi-million dollar indestructible suit, but I do have knucklebones.” 

“I’m sorry—” 

“They’re her favorite treat.” 

“Ah,” Tony says. “Well. I’m not exactly comforted by your protective equipment being something that only makes you look like an even tastier treat to a protective tiger.”

“Needless to say, I am very, very grateful.” 

He laughs, a charming sound. This time when her knees clench together, it’s a visible motion, one that she catches his eyes flickering down to spot. When he turns back towards the computer screen, it’s with a smirk. He wets his lips, and she wets her own in unconscious mirroring. 

“You’re welcome,” he says lowly. 

She swallows, grateful that he can’t see the way her pulse pounds, the temporary insanity inside her that makes the next statement pass her lips: “Maybe I could—thank you properly.” 

For a moment, the meaning doesn’t dawn on him. He stares with an almost innocent openness. Then his eyes widen fractionally. “Ah—a generous offer. Not necessary though, I assure you.” 

“I—of course. Jesus. I shouldn’t have even—I’m not usually so—” 

“It’s fine,” he says, smiling. “Like I said, a very, very generous offer. I’m not usually in the business of haranguing sexual favors as payment for being a good samaritan.” 

“I’m hardly feeling harangued,” she admits. “If you aren’t interested though, I understand.” 

“It’s not a lack of interest,” he says. “Trust me. But I have been making notable progress in being less of a sleazeball these last few years. It’s taken a lot of self-reflection and, full disclosure, plenty of therapy, and —” 

“And saving tigers.” 

“—that too. I—” His tirade cuts off when she slips from the stool down to kneel beside him in the cheap Ikea rolling chair he’s seated in. His throat bobs as he swallows, staring down at the sight of her. When she places one hand just above his knee, he lets out a long, audible breath into the quiet room. 

“If you really aren’t interested,” she says, voice trembling. “Now is the time to say something.” 

His head falls back to rest against the top of the chair while he looks upwards toward the fluorescent lights. Then his burning gaze is back on her, eyes serious and searching as they rake over her face. “You really want to do this?” 

If he were to put his hand between her legs, he’d have overwhelming physical evidence, but this is the last thing she feels brave enough to say. She’s already on her knees in front of Tony Stark himself. That fills her quota of bravery for the day. Instead, she just nods fervently. Whatever his last reservations were fall to the wayside. His hands fall to his belt buckle and her legs clench together at the sound. Worse than one of Pavlov’s dogs, she thinks. 

“This is what you wanted, right?” he asks, quiet while he pulls out his cock. He’s only half hard, but it’s impressive. All those nights she’d spent gossiping with girlfriends about how Tony Stark must be well hung, and now here is proof. Cut, thicker than she’s used to, and long, jerking under her gaze. When she glances back up at his eyes, she can see that he’s asked a question, but she’s already forgotten what it is. 

Instead, she leans forward, letting one hand press flat against the well-trimmed pubic hair to steady the base while her tongue laps at the head. He tastes clean, maybe a little soapy, like he’d rushed to shower before stepping into the Iron-man suit. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his hands tighten on the arms of the chair and considers that bolder encouragement than any spoken word. 

Pressing his cock upwards towards the band t-shirt he wears, she ducks down to lap at his balls, watching his face to assess his reactions. Judging by the way his eyes shut, full-mouth parting, this is something he likes. So she throws herself into it whole-heartedly, sucking one into her mouth and then giving attention to the other until Tony’s cock is full, silken, burning skin when she tilts her head to nuzzle against it. When she pulls back, she is pleased to see the way his chest heaves, the way precum pearls at the tip of his cock. 

When she leans in again to lap it away, Tony groans. 

“Jesus, your mouth,” he murmurs. 

She hums, heart buzzing with fresh confidence. As often as his eyes fall shut, he fights them open again and sets them on her, on her mouth where she presses open-mouthed kisses along his shaft, one palm cradling his balls in her warm palm. After a while, she is torturing herself as much as she tortures him, so she pulls back and opens her mouth (jaws already straining at the sheer width of him) and takes as much of his cock into her mouth as she can. 

The long, low  _ fuck  _ he mutters travels down between her legs, causing her to give a groan of her own. While she’d love to work a hand down to where she’s wet and aching, she needs both of them: one to work the length of his cock that she can’t swallow, and one to roll his balls. 

“Fuck me,” he says. “Did I say I didn’t want any more midnight trips to the zoo because—holy shit, that’s, that’s, God, please don’t stop—” 

She takes him deeper in response, letting the blunt head of his cock nudge the back of her throat. He jerks, hands tightening into fists on the arms of the chair. She takes a steadying breath and then works him deeper into her mouth, swallowing around the urge to gag, swallowing again and again when sounds begin to drip from Tony’s mouth in an endless stream, half-formed pleas and praises and filthy words.

It’s easy to lose herself between his legs, to become nothing but an aching knot of need, a useful hot mouth for his hips to fuck into (though he is very gentlemanly about it, little aborted thrusts, one shaking hand coming up to pet at her hair). She reaches up to encourage him to thread his fingers through her hair and take hold of her, to guide her, to use her. She keeps one hand fisted at the base of him to keep from injuring herself and otherwise lets him use her. 

She can’t help but imagine it happening again and again in a thousand different scenarios. Her beneath his desk while he works, keeping his cock warm. Her beneath the table during a rough meeting, his hands knotted in her hair. On her knees between his legs in his fancy penthouse, sucking him off for her own enjoyment. 

Suddenly he coaxes her off, one hand cupping her chin. “Are you alright?” he asks, breathlessly. “You were whining.” 

“‘M good,” she says, voice husky from the battering her throat has taken. “So good. Please don’t stop.” 

Tony shudders all over. “Fuck, I like the way you sound like that. Is that because of me, sweet thing? When your throat is sore in the morning, are you going to remember this and touch yourself?” 

“Uh-huh,” she breathes in the affirmative. Her eyes can’t focus on his face for any longer than a moment, not when his cock is there, glistening with her saliva, red and throbbing. Not when her mouth feels empty and open and desperate to be filled. She opens her mouth again, tongue lax, and he moans as he feeds his cock back between her lips. 

“I’m getting close,” he breathes, one thumb tracing the line of where her lips are wrapped around his cock. “Where do you want it? Absolutely no obligation to swallow, you’re in charge—” 

All the ideas are appealing: him pulling out to come on her face, pearlescent seed that she can lap from her lips. Pulling off so that she can finish him with her hand, so that she can watch every last twitch of his cock as she drags him over the edge. But this is the only chance she’ll ever have to be on her knees for this incredible, god-like man. There’s no chance she’ll let him cum anywhere but her mouth—no chance that she won’t swallow every last drop of him down. 

Kneeling up for better vantage, she plants both hands on hips and coaxes him forward, forward to thrust into her. The message must be clear as the realization crosses his face, eyes squeezing shut in an expression of the most sublime ecstasy. He murmurs one last warning before his pelvis tightens, abs showing in sharp definition where his shirt has ridden up. Then his cock jerks in her mouth, the scent of cum sharp on the back of her tastebuds. She groans, working her tongue as she swallows once, twice, thrice. 

As soon as he has finished, he draws her up onto shaking legs and pulls her onto his lap, his erection pressed between them as he cups her jaw tenderly and kisses the breath out of her. He must be able to taste himself in her mouth with the way his tongue plunders her, drags sensually against her own, but he only groans. 

When he draws back, his cheeks are red, eyes hazy. “I don’t even know your name,” he says, laughing a little. 

“I don’t remember it right now myself,” she says. 

“How about your address?” Tony asks. “I’d like to continue this, if you’ll have me. Somewhere more private. Unless you’re comfortable coming back to mine.” 

She blinks in surprise, sex throbbing when she wonders how he means to  _ continue  _ this. This whole night has been like a fever dream, the strangest, wettest fever dream of her life. And she realizes that she isn’t ready to wake up. So she drags her knuckles gently across his iconic facial hair and says, throat raw: “I’d like that.” 

  
  
  



End file.
